


She Glories in Being Abandoned

by stick2theplan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, F/F, Neverland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stick2theplan/pseuds/stick2theplan
Summary: Storming Neverland is sure to be a whole lot more complicated when the Jolly Roger’s makeshift crew doesn’t even know each other, let alone this Henry they’re supposed to be rescuing.OR: teen!Emma is 97.6% sure she’s dreaming, but hell if she wouldn’t do all sorts of stupid stuff to impress teen!Regina.





	1. An Awfully Big Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Once Upon a Time, Peter Pan, etc.
> 
> Title from J.M. Barrie’s _Peter and Wendy_.

“Peter Pan kidnapped my son. _Peter_. _Pan_. Kidnapped my—”

“Miss Swan!” barked Regina, startling Emma out of her pacing. “The last thing I need at the moment is more of a headache. Either shut up and help us devise a plan, or have your meltdown below deck.” 

Neverland loomed ahead. Supposedly, anyway, if Captain Hook’s navigating was to be trusted. On the deck of the Jolly Roger, Gold and Regina were bickering about something while Charming sharpened his sword and Mary Margaret tested the tension of a worn bow she’d found. 

Emma huffed, “You want a plan?” She marched over and snatched a piece of parchment from Gold and a pen right out of Regina’s breast pocket. She aggressively pinned the paper to the mast with a dagger. “Here’s the plan:

“ **ARRIVE ON NEVERLAND**

“ **RESCUE HENRY FROM PAN**

“ **GO BACK TO STORYBROOKE**

“ **LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER FFS** ”

For a moment, everyone else simply stared at the large block letters of the exalted Savior’s four step plan. Then Regina scoffed, “And how, exactly, do you intend to accomplish those goals, dear?”

“Well, we can’t really know until we get there and see what we’re up against, can we, Madam Mayor?” But, squinting at the nearing island, Emma blurted, “Fuck, you’re right. We’re going to have to turn ourselves into kids or something, aren’t we?” 

Regina had stopped listening after “you’re right,” but Gold muttered, “Excuse me?”

“To get onto the island.” Emma was pacing once again, though more agitatedly than before. “Only kids are allowed in Neverland. We’ve gotta become kids.”

“We do not need to turn ourselves into children,” Gold denied emphatically. 

Emma wasn’t listening. 

“Why does everything have to be so complicated with you people?”

“Sweetie, I don’t think…” Mary Margaret tried. 

“Slay a curse,…break a dragon,…relive teen angst…”

Again, Gold insisted, “Miss Swan, I assure you—”

“How do we even do that? Magic anti-aging cream? Or—”

“Swan, adults can—”

“—or just: Abracadabra, let’s all be fifteen again!”

There was an explosion of light and smoke. As it cleared, fifteen year old Emma Swan looked around and coughed, “Toto, we’re not in homeroom anymore.”

 

* * *

 

“David! Take over as first mate,” Emma shouted to the blond boy across the stern. She tossed the rope she’d just untangled over its hook and jumped down the steps to the lower deck. “Snow, once you’ve finished collecting those arrows, I need you to keep watch and shout if you see any movement on or off the island, okay? Okay! And, you! You focus on keeping that shield up, home-slice,” she told the smallest of the three boys as she passed him at the prow. 

“Rumplestiltskin,” he reminded her. 

“Oh, _believe me_ , I _so_ haven’t forgotten.”

She’d laughed when he first said the name, then been mystified by the terror on everyone else’s face. It was just a name—a dumb one, at that. 

She slowed as she rounded to port side and asked, “Yo, you good without me for a few minutes, Killian?” 

“Aye, Captain,” he called back gleefully. 

“Stop calling me that,” she ordered. “You’re the one sailing this thing.” Then, much more politely than her previous commands, she requested, “Regina, walk with me?” 

Emma had found very early on in this strange adventure that walking with Regina was calming. She had a hard time sitting still while she thought, and she’d said as much to the brunette. Instead of telling her to stop fidgeting or calling her a spaz, Regina had offered to take a walk with her around the boat. It was the first time in years that anyone had made an effort to accommodate Emma, which only served to strengthen the already inexplicable connection she felt to the other girl. 

The ship wasn’t massive; they walked close enough to brush shoulders intermittently. Emma’s knuckles skimmed soft skin exactly once before she shoved her hands into her back pockets to stop herself from doing something stupid. There was no denying that she had a special preference for Regina over the other members of her teenaged “crew.”

In the first thirty seconds or so after appearing—or regaining consciousness, or… _whatever—_ on an apparent pirate ship, Emma had instinctively appraised the other teens. 

There had been Rumplestiltskin, a small, mousy-looking boy with light brown hair and a thick wool cape, whose forest green tunic, brown pants, and untied boots were rattier than anything even she had ever owned. Unlike Emma, his boots seemed to be loose due to broken laces and not as an aesthetic choice. He was the first person in a long time to trigger her pity.

Then David, a handsome blond with similarly threadbare clothing. His white tunic and blue-gray pants were carefully patched, though—poor family, but loving parents. He didn’t have that abandoned look that Emma, in well-worn jeans and a white Hanes t-shirt, surely shared with the first boy. Lucky.

In stark contrast, two dark-haired kids: beside David, Snow, a pretty, porcelain-skinned girl in a Victorian-esque golden dress; and, up at the wheel, Killian, a clean-cut boy in a navy pea coat and off-white leather pants. Everything about them screamed money, and Emma’s nose had wrinkled almost instinctively. 

And, then…and, then there’d been Regina. 

Regina, who’d stepped out of the shadow of the mast like the girl appearing at the top of the stairs in a romcom and suggested, “I believe we may be on a quest together.”

Regina, who, when the preppy boy had swaggered down to join them on the lower deck and introduce himself as, “Killian Jones, future Navy man, at your service,” had raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Navy man, hm?” she’d asked. “Don’t you suppose someone should be sailing this ship, then, dear?”

That easy way she wielded authority had sent him scampering obediently back up to the wheel. It had also sent a whisper of recognition through Emma’s bones, which was strange because nothing about Regina looked familiar. Not her face, the riding boots, the white blouse, or the brown vest, and definitely not the tan leather pants.

Familiar or not, she’d had the rare gift of Emma’s full attention. Maybe she’d sensed how uncommon that was, because her eyes had stayed on the blonde as she’d pointed out a thick, yellowed paper in explanation of her initial inference. 

“This parchment seems to indicate that this ship is on a course for Neverland to rescue someone named Henry.” 

“Pretty _and_ smart,” Emma had flirted, and Regina had blushed.

That rosiness had so distracted Emma that it’d taken her a few seconds to actually look at the…parchment, apparently. Parchment covered in her own handwriting. Meaning she, at some forgotten point, had not only known why they were there but also taken the initiative to write it out. Which, ultimately, was why she’d ended up in charge. That, and…the _other thing_. 

Point being, Regina struck her as special, which was why Emma delegated tasks to the others and chose Regina as her company and confidant when she needed to take a walk. 

“I still don’t understand why I’d forget writing this,” she said, pulling the folded parchment from her pocket and absently rolling it into a tight tube. “Or why any of us would forget how we ended up here.”

Regina shrugged awkwardly. Most casual gestures seemed endearingly awkward on her, actually. “Magic can be fickle and unkind,” she offered. 

Right. Magic. That would be the _other thing_. 

To say Emma had reacted poorly to the whole magic-is-real bit would’ve been an understatement. 

When Killian had mentioned it, she’d brushed it off as a joke, because, well, _obviously_. But then she’d gestured up and down at Snow’s ridiculous dress and asked about finding her something more practical to wear. And, in sync with the motion of her hand, pale smoke, almost the color of the dress itself, had wrapped around Snow. When it’d cleared, the dress had been replaced with off-white leather pants and a short-sleeved, brown tunic. 

“Oh, god,” Emma had breathed, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “Oh, god, oh, god. This is totally whacked. Get it together, Swan. This is not real. You’re just dreaming. It’s not real.” She’d about jumped out of her skin when a hand landed gently on her shoulder. 

Regina had smiled softly at her. “Swan?” she’d asked, “Is that your surname? Lovely. Look at me. Breathe, Emma. In and out. Yes, just like that. A ship is a terrible place to have a panic attack. Breathe.”

Once her pulse had stopped pounding in her ears, Emma had frowned, embarrassed. Dream or not, she didn’t like showing weakness, and she especially didn’t like being coddled. She wondered, though, if that had been Regina’s way of thanking her for defusing Snow’s crazy stepmother confusion earlier. 

Regardless, having magic, whether she knew how to use it or not, made Emma one of the most powerful members of their Breakfast Club approximation, so it pretty much cemented the leadership role she’d already been taking. 

“Emma?”

Breaking out of her reverie, Emma shoved both the parchment and her hand back in her pocket. “Sorry,” she said, angling her shoulders so she could look at Regina as they walked. “It’s kinda a lot to take in.”

“Of course.”

“So, let me get this straight. I’ve apparently got magic, and someone was still able to jack our memories? Wouldn’t I have stopped ‘em?”

Regina frowned and glanced down at where Emma’s fists disappeared within her pockets. Yeah, she was definitely looking at Emma’s magical hands and not her ass. Definitely. No matter how fine that ass was. 

“Magic comes with a price,” she said warily. “Always.”

“A price? Like dead presidents? Or—hold up, do you think I did magic and this was the price? We all got amnesia?” 

“I am saying it is a possibility.”

“Your own magic can fuck you up?” Emma snorted humorlessly. “That’s so totally shady.” 

The girls’ boots tapped rhythmically, the only sound below deck for several long moments besides the dull clinks and irregular creaking of the ship. Eventually, Regina said, “I think I’d prefer it to the alternative, in this case.” 

Emma nodded. “The devil you know, huh?”

“Something to that effect. Though you’re hardly a devil, Emma Swan.”

Deliberately casual, Emma scoffed, “Tell that to all the foster parents.”

“Foster parents?” Regina asked, a furrow of genuine confusion between her eyebrows. 

Legitimately not knowing about the foster system had to have been the most privileged life Emma could’ve imagined. Jealousy rubbed a little bit of that old bitterness into the set of her shoulders. “People who take in orphans,” she explained, and she could hear herself being more curt than usual with Regina, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Not like adoption, ‘cause they don’t keep you.” Regina’s lower lip twitched, and Emma couldn’t tell if that fleeting pout was pity or hurt at her harsh tone. 

She hadn’t lied, but she’d avoided the subject of her parents up ’til then, so she wasn’t surprised that Regina felt the need to verify, “You’re an orphan?”

Not surprised, but not prepared for a heart-to-heart, either. 

“No offense, Regina, but I don’t really want to talk about this. Can we go back to the magic stuff?”

Regina didn’t push; she simply apologized and agreed. For some reason, Emma had sort of expected to be given a hard time. She took the out, though, and asked, “So, does Pan have magic?”

“I couldn’t say,” Regina replied. “I don’t know much beyond the myth. However, if what they say about Neverland is true, the island itself is highly magical. We should expect that Pan may be able to tap into those natural reserves. Some say he controls the whole island.”

Emma kicked at a support beam. “And that’s who we’re going up against? Jesus, Peter fucking Pan. I thought he was a good guy.” She stopped walking and blinked. “I mean, I thought he wasn’t real.” 

With a sharp shake of her head, she started walking again. As did Regina, who was remarkably good at keeping pace with her. They were more in sync than Emma felt with anyone else on the ship. She could already tell that Snow and David saw the world as very black-and-white, and they probably wouldn’t understand her shades of gray. Killian was alright, but his strong convictions about serving in the Navy didn’t really jibe with Emma’s general me-against-the-world outlook. And Rumplestiltskin was just weird as hell…

“What about this “Dark One” junk? Can you tell me about that? ‘Cause the others seem all goody-two-shoes, but if we’ve got someone with a title like that on our team, are we sure we’re on the right side of this?” 

“The Dark One’s magic is inherently…” Regina pursed her lips. “Well, it’s dark, obviously. It renders him immortal and quite possibly the most powerful being in existence. As for the morality of an alliance with him—many a leader have employed his services. 

“Though his power is certainly evil in essence, he is not aligned with any external agenda. He acts exclusively in his own self interest and will assist anyone with whom he can make a favorable deal, regardless of moral standing. I assume we must’ve made such a deal.” 

Emma was reminded of the fairytale and felt somewhat relieved that at least one thing about this insanity was consistent with the stories she knew. There was a weird quality to Regina’s voice that worried her, though. 

“Is there a “but” coming?” she prodded.

“No, not a “but,” per se…” 

“You can be straight with me, Regina. You and me, we got each other’s backs, alright?”

Nodding slowly, Regina glanced around and lowered her voice. “The Dark One’s essence is tied to a dagger. Whoever possesses it controls him.”

“Woah, that’s kinda shady,” Emma muttered. 

“According to all my history books, Rumplestiltskin has retained possession of his dagger for centuries.”

The implications of that weighed heavily on the two girls. There were two methods of getting the Dark One’s help, and they had no way of knowing which they’d employed. 

“Yo, you don’t think we stole this dagger thing and were using it to make him help us, do you?” 

“I hope not, because I have no idea where we’d have been keeping it.”

“Well, shit.” 

Emma stopped abruptly and turned on her heel. She took three steps in the wrong direction, then pivoted again and took six more the way they’d been going before. With a quarter-turn to the left and a grunt, she kicked the hull. Then she completed the rotation so she was facing Regina, who’d observed the erratic behavior with wide, uncertain eyes. 

Walking wasn’t going to cut it. Emma needed to pace. “Just, just give me a minute,” she told Regina, as she did just that. Small, frantic orbits, so tight she almost made herself dizzy. 

“This is whack,” she eventually blurted. “Even for a dream, it’s totally insane.”

Regina merely hummed in agreement.

“I mean, if the whole magic thing wasn’t enough—we have no idea what we’re up against, except that it’s maybe some demon version of Peter Pan. Plus, we don’t know who we can trust. That’s pretty terrifying if you think about it.

“What kinda lunatic storms an unfamiliar island—a whole island, not, like, the fifth floor of a high-rise!—to throw down with an opponent they know nothing about, backed by total strangers, all in the interest of saving someone they’ve never met? Who does that? It’s basically a suicide mission. Why should I risk my life?”

There was a long silence before Regina whispered tightly, “I understand why you’d feel that way.”

“But that’s the kicker!” Emma laughed humorlessly. “I don’t. Yeah, it’s insane, but somehow this feels like the most important thing ever.”

“For me as well,” breathed Regina. “It’s as if my soul demands it. Though that may be because…” She bit her lip nervously. “Henry is my father’s name.”

Emma skidded to a halt. 

“What? Regina, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I feared that no one would wish to help if they knew that all this is probably my fault.”

“Why would you think—? Listen, I’m sure it isn’t your fault, and, even if it is, that won’t stop me from helping you. Like I said, I got your back.”

Regina smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Emma.”

Conversation lapsed for a while as they both dwelled on the situation and all its complexities. Aside from the island they were approaching, there was no land as far as the eye could see—only endless waves. On all sides, the pale blue of the sky met the green-blue of the sea with such finality. Somehow, Emma just knew that nothing else awaited beyond that horizon. The only way out was through Neverland. 

“I still don’t like it,” she said, “—charging blind into this, this great unknown.”

Regina moved to stand in front of her and reached out to wrap her small hands around Emma’s upper arms. Her eyes flashed, dark and serious, and her voice took on an authoritative quality. 

“I know—somehow, I know you are capable. I believe in you, and, together, we are going to…to succeed.”

In that barest of hesitations, Emma wondered if the words she had expected, and yet couldn’t pinpoint, were the same words that escaped Regina. The force of those unknown words, almost as much as what she’d actually said, finalized Emma’s decision. 

“Alright. Tell the others to get ready. We’re going to save Henry.”

For the first time, an enormous, unencumbered grin bloomed across Regina’s face. She rocked indecisively on her heels, then popped up to give Emma a kiss on the cheek and was gone before the blonde could even begin to blush. 

Emma realized there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for a smile even half as bright as that grin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Neverland’s been done to death, but I don’t think I’ve seen this particular AU. Which is not to say it hasn’t been done, obviously, but I recently found a rough cut of this (still pretty rough) first chapter while going through my old hard drive and figured I might as well post it. Pretty sure it was written way back when they just set sail on the show. I’ll continue it if there’s enough interest, so feedback would be much appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. where dreams are born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Breakfast Club approximation arrives on Neverland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to get through this chapter because I was trying to plot out how the story is going to go. Now that I've got that mostly decided, hopefully updates will come more quickly. I'm pretty busy in my regular life, so I apologize for being unable to give you a reliable schedule, but know that I _will_ finish this story eventually, even if it means two and a half weeks between chapters.

The ship appeared quite a lot more imposing once they’d disembarked. They’d lowered the sails and everything, but it was bigger than Emma had realized, and, with all that rigging, it really did look like a proper pirate ship. Emma stared out at it contemplatively. 

She was, admittedly, still a little amazed that she’d reached Neverland by sea and not the route that every self-respecting foster kid knew better than their own name. Not that “second star to the right and straight on ’til morning” made for the best directions. Emma knew that well enough from back when she’d actually believed this place might’ve been real.

She’d tried to follow that route once when she was five or six, only to be picked up in a Denny’s parking lot after a few hours by the local sheriff at the behest of frantic foster parents. Because, at that age, she’d still been small and cute enough to elicit genuine concern. 

When she’d told the Sheriff she’d been searching for Neverland, he’d asked why she would want to go there. 

“Neverland’s for kids who don’t wanna grow up,” he’d said.

“No,” Emma had corrected, “it’s for Lost kids. For the ones who get left and forgotten.” 

It had taken a lot longer than she’d willingly admit for her to truly move past the appeal of Neverland. Up until recently, she probably would’ve struggled to honor any commitments that involved escaping what her inner Lost Girl insisted had to be paradise.

At fifteen, she was too old for Neverland; too old for innocence. She’d come to the realization that she’d rather grow up and have her autonomy. Nobody wanted to stay an awkward teenager forever. 

Still, actually being in Neverland was…weird. 

Even more so when she noticed the name of the ship. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered. “We did not sail to Neverland on the motherfucking Jolly Roger.”

Killian, who was close enough to partially overhear, gave her a perplexed look, but Emma only shook her head and asked Rumplestiltskin if there was something he could do to protect the ship while they were ashore. 

His brow furrowed momentarily, then the ship faded rapidly out of sight, like the reverse of a developing polaroid. 

“Is it still there?” David asked, squinting out at the place where the boat had been. 

“ _She_ ,” Killian corrected wistfully.

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin confirmed. “It will remain invisible until we re-board.”

Killian pouted.

Emma finally turned to take in Neverland. From within the fog, much more greenery was visible. The beach they stood on was at the mouth of a cove, and the sand ended abruptly at a dense and tangled wilderness that stretched around the bay. In the unrelenting darkness of night, it occurred to Emma that she didn’t even know where to start their search. It was like the worst game of hide-and-seek ever, and she’d always preferred being a hider, anyway. 

Rumplestiltskin suggested that they hike up one of the peaks in the distance to investigate the layout of the island from higher ground. It was a decent plan, and the obvious choice, since they weren’t exactly drowning in ideas. 

David took the lead, slashing through the vines and branches with the huge sword he’d claimed. Snow kept pace on his right, bow in hand and a makeshift quiver over her shoulder. 

They’d found the bow and a few arrows on the deck of the ship, earlier. After watching the boys putz around with it for a few minutes, Snow had stepped in and wielded the weapon expertly, despite claiming to have no experience with a bow. Whether she’d be willing to use it against a live opponent was still in question, but, ideally, it wouldn’t come to that.

Killian had a dagger, which he occasionally used to help in clearing a path. At first, Emma was overly cautious about where she stepped, not sure she trusted the boys to be effective. Gradually, though, she relaxed and began paying attention to more than the dirt directly beneath her feet. 

Distance didn’t seem to be a constant dimension in Neverland. Emma noticed this first when she stopped to wait for Regina to retie her boot and again when she dropped her scrunchie. In the direction of the coast, the same steps covered more ground than toward the heart of the island. It took her two steps to go back for her scrunchie and six to catch up to where she’d just been. But, like magic or the fact that this must be a dream, she didn’t have time to obsess over it, so she forced herself to let it go. 

As they hiked, she decided to implement a buddy system. She paired Snow with David, mostly because the two were practically joined at the hip anyway, but also because she figured, between David’s sword and Snow’s bow, they’d be alright. That meant Killian with Rumplestiltskin, excusably because of the former’s initiative and the latter’s magic, but mainly because it left Regina with herself. Killian quickly insisted that he should be with one of them instead, as if each of the girls in their group needed a boy to protect them. 

Which was laughable, really. He didn’t even have facial hair yet, and he already fancied himself some kind of knight in shining armor. 

“I’ve got magic,” Emma reminded him. “And I can hold my own in a fight, so I’m pretty sure we’re good.”

Killian smiled diplomatically. “I mean no offense, m’lady, but your magic is unreliable at best.”

“It works when I need it to.” 

He started to protest further, so she thrust her hand out aggressively and snapped, “This is not up for debate. You’ll stick with your buddy even if it means I have to ‘cuff you together.”

As if to verify both her leadership and her magic, a set of handcuffs materialized around Killian’s right wrist and Rumplestiltskin’s left in a puff of pale smoke. The former boy looked suitably chastised, whereas the latter magically waved away the restraint with an unamused glare. 

“Perhaps you should be more careful about speaking with your hands, dearie,” he suggested. 

There were, however, no further arguments about the assigned buddies, and Emma couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with herself. Maybe leadership was a strength of hers. Who knew?

“Why me?” Regina asked, as they walked two by two.

“Hm?”

“You keep choosing me.”

Ducking a low branch, Emma shook her head. “I think you’ve got it twisted,” she said.

That rosy blush from before tinged Regina’s cheeks, and she lowered her eyes to follow Snow’s boots in front of them. 

“What I mean,” Emma elaborated, “is, like, you chose yourself. Yeah, I had a good feeling about you from the beginning, but I didn’t decide to make you my right hand or whatever. You sorta, like, took the opening for yourself by just doing it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Give yourself a little more credit, chica.”

Regina gave her a perplexed look. “Chica?”

“It means girl.”

For some reason, she seemed to find that highly offensive. “Excuse me? I am a woman,” she insisted. “I am old enough to bear children and…and…well, I’m certainly not a _girl_.”

“Woah-kay,” Emma sputtered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like—it’s just a—wait, _children_?! At fifteen? Are you crazy?”

“I said old enough to _bear_ children.” Regina chuckled at Emma’s horror. “Not that I’m ready to raise them.” 

Oh. Oh, she meant…

Emma blushed hard anyway at the thought of Regina getting pregnant. She had an overwhelming desire to punch the imaginary baby daddy. Realizing how obsessive that was, she stared straight ahead at David’s back as he hacked a path through the vines and wondered if anyone would ever feel so strongly about defending her virtue. 

They reached the top of the ridge a few minutes later, only to be sorely disappointed by the apparent uselessness of their hike. The jungle below was too overgrown for them to discern anything. 

“Well, it wasn’t entirely useless,” amended Regina from where she stood a safe distance from the cliff edge. “Now we know something of the trial that awaits if we attempt to journey through the jungle.” 

Her words passed completely over David and Killian, who were right up at the edge, sending loose pebbles plummeting with every shift of their feet. Snow was not quite as daring, but she hovered a few steps behind David and leaned in, trying to see what they were looking at. Rumplestiltskin, however, hung even further back than Regina, a very nervous look on his face. 

“Well? What do we do now, Spindleshanks?” Emma asked. She was met with blank looks all around, and she grumbled, “That was a great reference, and it was totally wasted on all of you.” 

Rumplestiltskin wrung his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot, the confidence of mere minutes ago already forgotten. “I’m not sure,” he squeaked. 

“Relax, kid,” Emma snorted. “We’re not gonna throw you over the edge or anything. No need to wet yourself.” 

“We should split up and comb the jungle,” David suggested.

A tsk sounded from just behind Emma’s shoulder, and, somehow, she just knew that Regina was raising an unamused eyebrow—fully expected the other girl’s next words, in fact, because instinct told her that Regina thrived in the gray areas between snark and sarcasm and disdain. 

“That,” Regina contended, “is the absolute last thing we should do.”

And, of course, Emma had to agree, because, “There could be literally anything down there. Like jaguars, or, I dunno, sinkholes, or some shit?

“Besides, how’re we supposed to find each other again if we split up? It’s not like we've got cellphones or anything. No, we stick together, and…and we start by working our way around the, uh, perimeter of the jungle. Yeah.” 

David was one of those easy-going guys, so he wasn’t the least bit offended at having his idea shot down. Emma couldn’t decide whether to judge him for being such a pushover or appreciate that he wasn’t going to challenge her decisions. 

She pulled the pen out of her pocket and pressed it to her left forearm to sketch a very rough approximation of the island’s shape based on what they could see from their vantage point. She marked the ridge with a little mountain symbol, hoping the makeshift map—and at least a vague idea of where they’d started—would help them navigate. 

“Alright,” she said, capping the pen. “We’re good to go.”

She lead the way, now that the path was a little more clear. Despite the initial pushback, the buddy system seemed to have taken pretty quickly, and they walked in pairs of their own volition, though there was definitely a lot more chatter coming from Snow and David than from Killian and Rumplestiltskin. Emma felt a rush of jealousy at Snow’s ability to talk to David without overthinking everything. Maybe she should try that with Regina. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to have a kid,” she blurted out quietly, revisiting their previous conversation. 

Okay, maybe that wasn’t her best attempt at small talk. 

“Why not?” Regina questioned, her voice free of judgement. 

Emma shrugged. “Never had anyone in my life who made me feel like being a parent would be a good idea.”

It took Regina a long moment to respond, and, when she did, she seemed to be slightly breathless. “I’d like to believe…that a decent person…can be a good parent…without having had the best example,” she said.

“You alright?” Emma asked. She frowned deeply as she waited for Regina to catch her breath enough to respond without pauses. 

“Yes.” 

At Emma’s continued dubious expression, she insisted, “I’m fine, Emma. I’m simply unaccustomed to this much travel by foot.”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize—do you wanna stop? We can take a break.”

Blushing, Regina glanced quickly over her shoulder, then shook her head. “No. There’s no need to stop.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause it’s really not a—”

“ _Emma_.”

Emma’s jaw snapped shut, and she tilted her head in confusion.

“If the princess can do this, so can I.”

Oh. 

They’d well established that they were from very different places, but Emma still couldn’t quite wrap her head around, “So, she’s, like, actually a legit princess? Member of the royal family and all that?”

Regina nodded and quietly explained that she’d never seen Snow before but that she knew of the monarchy. Supposedly, her father was the ruler of a fairly prosperous kingdom near Regina’s own home. There had been a lot of talk about them lately, according to Regina, because of the recent death of Snow’s mother. 

“She doesn’t look like someone whose mom just kicked the bucket,” Emma whispered, glancing back furtively.

“Nor does she look near as young as she’s supposed to be,” Regina added. 

A memory that Emma had previously dismissed as ludicrous and promptly shelved came rushing back: On the boat, the princess had stubbornly insisted that Regina was her stepmother for several minutes until Emma had talked some sense into her. They were the same age; there was no way Regina could be who Snow thought she was. 

But if they each thought the other girl’s age was wonky…

“Makes ‘bout as much sense as everything else I’ve seen today,” Emma huffed. Remembering how uncomfortable Regina had been about Snow’s claim, she offered up an awkward grin and jokingly assured, “Don’t worry. If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that you won’t have to marry any creepy, old kings on this adventure.”

“It’s just that…marrying me off to a king is exactly what my mother dreams of.”

“Yikes.”

“Mm, yikes, indeed.”

They trekked on diligently for almost an hour, but Emma could sense the group growing weary, so she decided to pause their journey when her own stomach growled loudly. Everyone seemed relieved, if a bit confused, when she declared that they should try to find some grindage and set up camp for the night. It had been a very long day, after all, and she was happy with the progress they’d made. 

Between the two of them, Rumplestiltskin and Emma managed to conjure a good-sized fire and surprisingly tolerable bedrolls. Meanwhile, Killian helped the others distinguish between safe and poisonous berries, sounding like an overexcited boy scout. 

After their meager meal of strange, exotic fruits, they each settled in for the night on one of the bedrolls positioned in a ring around the fire. Emma was so exhausted that she felt like she could’ve fallen asleep on her feet. She was usually a pretty guarded person, but, ironically, if there was one thing she didn’t have trouble with, it was falling asleep surrounded by strangers. 

Just before drifting off, she reached out to the shadowy form beside her and gripped Regina’s arm reassuringly. The other girl looked nervous, so Emma promised, “I’m a light sleeper. Anyone thinks about bothering us, I’ll be up before they get close.”

Regina nodded slowly and whispered “Thank you. Goodnight, Emma.”

Her face was the last thing Emma saw as her eyes slid shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is much appreciated.


	3. and time is never planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Regina meet the boy who never grows up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that I’m really bad at sticking to a writing schedule?

It was still very dark when Emma jerked awake, and, for a few seconds, she had no recollection of where she was or how she’d gotten there.

Being a light sleeper was a skill she’d developed out of necessity, and yet waking to completely foreign surroundings never seemed to get less unsettling. The context came back quickly, though, as she squinted into the darkness of the Neverland wilderness in search of the source of the noises that had awoken her.

“Regina,” she whispered tentatively, hesitating before repeating herself and cautiously touching the other girl’s shoulder.

Being touched while asleep would’ve had Emma jumping out of her skin, but Regina’s sleep must’ve been a lot less fraught, because it took several more seconds of whispers and tapping to get a response out of her. Said response was a very reluctant grumble and a blind swat in Emma’s general direction, which barely clipped her shoulder.

Emma’s reactionary chuckle died in her throat when Regina’s eyes flew open, full of shock and fear. That fear set off her own anxiety, and she hastily hushed the brunette with reassurances that it was just her.

“So, uh, you’re awake?” she asked after a beat of silence, mostly for lack of anything better to say.

Regina’s answer came in the form of an incredulous eyebrow raise.

“Right. Anyway. Do you hear that?”

“What?” rasped Regina, clearly still bewildered by the rude awakening.

“That sound. Do you hear it?”

Evidently not, given that the expression of confusion only deepened as Emma described the distant sound of kids crying. Regardless, the longer she had to hear it, the more restless and anxious Emma got. She had to at least check it out.

“Excuse me, you want to do what?” Regina balked.

“Maybe they can help us find Henry. Besides, how dangerous can a crying kid possibly be?”

Regina pursed her lips. “You do realize this could be a magical deception?”

Emma nodded, as if obviously that had occurred to her. It probably should’ve tempered her desire to seek out the source, but the sound was like an invisible thread pulling at her. She just could not ignore it. So she begged Regina to accompany her. She would go alone if she had to, she insisted, but she needed her buddy to have her back if it was a trap.

Not that Emma was scared. Truth was, she’d have been happier facing potential danger alone while her crew stayed safe. But she’d made a big deal of putting her foot down about the buddy system, and, if the others woke up to see she’d gone off on her own, they’d think she was a hypocrite. Nobody liked taking orders from a hypocrite.

“Very well,” Regina sighed. “Let’s get on with it.”

Emma took her hand and led the way. She winced at the too-loud crunch of her own footsteps. Nothing quite drowned out the sobs, but the ambient sounds of the jungle only compounded her anxiety. She pivoted on every step, unwilling to leave any side exposed for too long. Who knew what untold dangers lurked in Neverland’s abundant shadows? She had this horrible fear that every tree they passed might suddenly come to life and grab them.

They couldn’t have gone very far—though it was impossible to tell—when a whooshing sound heralded a new voice.

“You hear that, too?”

Both girls let go of each other’s hand and spun around, startled.

A boy, who had definitely not been there a second ago, leaned against a tree. He had thick, brown hair and dark eyes and a vaguely familiar face. Judging by his worn, woodland-esque outfit, he very much belonged on the island. Emma opened her mouth to question him, but he beat her to it.

“You’re Emma, right?”

She gaped at him.

He promptly moved on, though, as if that was a rhetorical question. He cocked his head, furrowed his brow, and observed, “And Regina? I hadn’t expected you to be able to hear the crying.”

“I can’t,” Regina replied sharply.

“Who are you?” Emma demanded impatiently.

“Oh, did I forget to introduce myself? I’m Peter. Peter Pan.”

He was older than she’d expected, and he didn’t have his weird elf hat, but it was obvious, now that he’d said it. He smiled at them, and not in a condescending way. So far, he didn’t seem awful, and Emma both loved and hated that.

“So you’re in charge here, huh?” she asked casually. “Look, if you could just, like, take us to Henry, that’d be dope.”

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Peter pouted.

If Emma had been keeping track of what made sense, the list would’ve been very short. But that? That was almost viscerally true to form. The Peter Pan of Emma’s bedtime stories wanted to make an adventure of everything. Maybe they’d misunderstood; maybe taking Henry was simply a misguided attempt at a new game and not anything sinister.

“Listen, Peter, Regina’s real worried about Henry, so why don’t you give him back and we’ll think of another game to play?”

A malevolent smirk spread across his face, and Emma’s stomach dropped.

“Oh, but, Emma, there is no other game.”

Nope, just as awful as her mysterious parchment implied, then. Emma surged forward and pinned him to the tree with an arm at his throat. “Tell me where he is,” she growled.

“So this is the Savior I’ve heard so much about. You’ve got fire,” he chuckled. “I like fire.”

“Not interested, creep. We’re here for Henry. Now, where is he?”

“Of course you are,” Peter said blandly. “Henry’s a very special boy.”

“That is so not what I asked,” Emma seethed, pressing more firmly with her forearm.

It did, however, answer some of her unspoken questions. She heard Regina echo, “boy?” and wondered if the other girl was disappointed by that revelation.

“You’re not very gracious, are you?” observed Peter. “You’re supposed to say thank you when someone gives a compliment.”

“Do you have any idea how annoying you are? No wonder your—”

Emma’s mouth snapped shut and she bit her tongue hard. Thankfully, Regina diverted attention from the horribly cruel thing she’d been about to say. She stepped right up behind the blonde, and, though Emma couldn’t see her face, something in the air shifted significantly. Regina’s tone dropped to a low, threatening whisper.

“You can tell us where Henry is now, and we will collect him and go in peace,” she hissed, leaning in so close that her words warmed Emma’s ear as they left her lips. “Or you can continue to be difficult, and we’ll be forced to tear your beloved island apart until we find him. And then perhaps a bit more, for good measure. Should you choose the latter…well, I do hope you’re not particularly fond of the mermaids, dear.”

“Old people really are no fun,” Peter complained.

Emma glanced over her shoulder to share a look of bewilderment with Regina; physically, he couldn’t have been any younger than them. If he noticed their reaction, he ignored it in favor of babbling about some map.

With extreme reluctance and Regina’s hand on her elbow, Emma released him and stepped back. She glared warily at the folded paper he pulled from his vest and grumbled, “If you’re messing with us—”

He waved her off, proclaiming his trustworthiness and promising the map would lead them to Henry, etcetera, etcetera. And, yet, when Emma unfolded the parchment, it was blank.

“Yeah, this is so helpful. Not!” Emma exclaimed sarcastically.

Regina made a sort of impatient growling noise that sounded legitimately dangerous.

“The map will work,” Peter insisted. “When you stop denying who you are, Emma.”

And then he was gone as suddenly and inexplicably as he had come.

Shrugging and shaking her head, Emma frowned back down at the map-less parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”*

Nothing happened.

“It was worth a try,” she said, in answer to Regina’s unspoken question. “So, let’s see…I’m Emma Swan, I’m fifteen years old, I’m an orphan, I…”

At once, ink bloomed across the parchment. The blotches curved and arced and changed color, forming shapes and glyphs and neat lines of curly script.

“Guess he was telling the truth, then. It’s a map.”

It wasn’t especially intricate, but it had the basic elements of a proper map. There was a compass rose at the top left, which actually didn’t seem relevant for an island suspended ambiguously in space. Bowline Point curved around Pirate’s Cove, where they’d left the Jolly Roger. A totem pole marked Indian Village near the western coast, and Mermaid Lagoon was off the east. Most importantly, a large red X marked Pan’s Hideout and, presumably, Henry’s location.

“Hm.”

“What is it?” Regina asked.

“I’ve had foster parents who do that—make you say what you are,” Emma told her. She snorted. “As if we could forget.”

Regina frowned, dismayed. “Are they truly that awful?”

“Yeah,” Emma confirmed with a shrug. “I try to ditch those ones pretty quick.” She continued to study the map and very deliberately didn’t mention that there were much worse foster parents than that.

“You’re strong,” blurted Regina, as if the words had escaped her before she’d properly decided to say them.

“Huh?”

“You may be those other things, but you’re strong, too, and brave. Those qualities are more important, I think.”

“Uh, thanks,” said Emma awkwardly. She kicked at the mulch and rubbed her thumb over Skull Rock, avoiding the other girl’s gaze. “I guess we should, uh, head back? Get a couple hours of sleep and then fill the others in before we start on this, y’know?” When she looked up, Regina sported a hint of disappointment in the twist of her mouth.

“Yes, I suppose we should.”

“You’re not upset, are you? That Henry’s a kid, not your dad?”

“I am, strangely, no less compelled to find him now than I was before.”

“Cool,” Emma said absently. She made to turn back in the direction of the camp, toward which Regina had already taken a few steps, but hesitated. She squinted down at the map, then peered out into the jungle. This Henry kid was somewhere out there. She wondered whether he knew they were coming for him or if he thought he was on his own.

“The woods are lovely,” she recited, “dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

She turned to go, only to be stopped by Regina, who strode right up to her with a determined glint in her eye. After the barest of hesitations, Regina rocked forward onto her toes, just as she had done once before, on the ship. Only, this time, she braced herself against Emma’s shoulder and bicep and kissed her full on the mouth.

The kiss was brief and chaste—a simple press of lips. It ignited a spark, a rush of adrenaline; fireworks, Emma might’ve thought, if she wasn’t quite so cynical. Fireworks or not, it was a really, really nice kiss.

A deep scarlet blush painted Regina’s cheeks when she pulled away. She looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to be pleased or embarrassed. In reassurance, Emma smiled, reached out to lace their fingers together, and started walking.

“Are we gonna talk about that?”

“Must we?” Regina inquired unenthusiastically.

“Uh, no, I guess not,” Emma laughed. “So where did that come from, back there with Pan?” she asked once the silence shifted from insecure to comfortable. She was still a bit awestruck by the level of vitriol that had come from an otherwise sweet girl. “I think you mighta actually scared him.”

Regina shook her head, dumbfounded herself. “Seems I’ve learned a thing or two of use from my mother.”

Before they had a chance to unpack that, they ran into Snow and David. Emma’s initial assumption that they’d been sneaking away to hook up was shattered instantly by Snow’s reaction.

“Emma, Regina?” she cried, “Where have you been?”

“Found them!” David shouted.

As they closed the remaining few steps back into their camp, Killian and Rumplestiltskin entered the clearing from the opposite side.

“We were investigating a noise, and we met Pan,” explained Emma. She ignored Killian’s pointedly raised eyebrow and subtly slipped her hand out of Regina’s, squeezing the girls fingers as she let go. While she didn’t want to broadcast their business to the whole group, she also didn’t want Regina to think she was trying to distance herself.

“Alone? Why didn’t you wake us?” Snow demanded. “We were worried!”

“I thought at least some of us should get a full night’s sleep. Plus, I thought we’d be back before you woke up.”

“What did Pan have to say?” David questioned.

“He provided us with a map,” replied Regina. “And he seems to have a particular desire to spite Emma.”

Snow’s eyes went wide. “A map? To find Henry? Well, let’s pack up, then!”

Emma shook her head resignedly. “He’s all the way across the island. We’re better off getting some more sleep tonight and heading out in the morning.”

“Why don’t we use magic to get there? It will take no time at all!”

“No,” Regina said firmly.

“But—”

“No.”

David interjected, somewhat impatiently, “You won’t even consider it, Regina?”

Regina shook her head. “I will not.”

“Why not, m’lady?” Killian asked. “It would make our journey quite a bit simpler.”

“I do not trust magic,” she bit out. “Not as a general rule, and particularly not on this island.”

“What?” Snow scoffed. “That’s ridic—”

“Snow,” Emma interrupted, “step off. I’m sure ‘Gina isn’t being stubborn for no reason.”

Killian echoed, “Gina?” but everyone ignored him.

“She’s right,” Rumplestiltskin agreed, steeping forward. “Pan controls the island. It would be extremely naive to presume that he does not have traps and barriers in place.”

“What’s the point of having magic if we’re not going to use it to help us?” David grumbled.

“We can talk about this more in the morning,” Emma sighed, really not interested in entertaining the argument any longer that night, let alone in the morning.

Snow pouted, looking as though she wanted to argue further.

“Aye, mates, the Captain is right,” Killian interjected, looking very sleep-deprived.

Emma, herself, was too exhausted and appreciative to complain about the title. She nodded and indicated the empty bedrolls with a tilt of her head. Snow and David were the last to relent and follow her back, but follow they did.

Regina’s fingertips brushed Emma’s wrist as she passed. She gave a soft smile when Emma looked up. By that point, Emma had seen several different smiles from Regina, but this one was new. It was the smile of someone who felt ostracized, of someone who wasn’t used to emotional support. It was an Emma Swan sort of smile.

Maybe she and Regina had a lot more in common than she’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Technically, this book wouldn’t come out until 1999, a year into Emma’s future, but I couldn’t resist.
> 
> Also, I promise this isn’t going to be a point-for-point rewrite of the Neverland arc with added 90s slang. I want to be true to how this would play out, and I think characters like Pan, who’s been planning this for ages, would behave the same until our protagonists force some significant diversions. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
